


I'm Not Sick

by Lamsfan



Series: Lams [6]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 11:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11988861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lamsfan/pseuds/Lamsfan
Summary: I'm rearranging stuff again.  Sorry about that.





	1. I Didn't Faint.  Stop Saying That

“Hello, Dr. Laurens?  This is George Washington.  Alex’s boss?”  

“Yes, sir, we met at your office Christmas party.  How are you?  Is something wrong?”  _Of course something was wrong.  Why else would Alex’s boss be calling?_ Panic had started to twist in his stomach but Washington’s calm demeanor helped to relax him.  

“Don’t worry.”  He paused for a second; John could hear him shuffling papers in the background.  _Okay, if he's still working, it can't be anything too serious._ “Alex almost fainted at work today.  He’s okay.  But he has a fever and the nurse thinks he might have the flu.  He’s probably also dehydrated; he’s been doing research for a case and I don’t think he stopped for lunch.  He put up an argument, of course, but he finally agreed to take the rest of the day off.  Since it is Friday, that should give him the weekend to recover.  If you’re going to be at home in thirty minutes or so, I can order a car and send him home.” 

“No, no, I appreciate that, sir, but I’ll come get him.”  John wrapped up the call after telling Washington approximately how long it would take him to arrive. He was in the break room having lunch, so he was already near his locker.  He shoved his empty water bottle, the last of his lunch, and his tablet into his messenger bag, then pulled out his phone to order an Uber.  Once he confirmed the car, he headed towards reception to let his boss know he needed to leave early. 

By the time John arrived at the law firm, an embarrassed Alex was back at his desk, glaring at anyone who dared to come near his office and shooing his paralegal away.  Washington had sent her to the pharmacy for cough syrup and over the counter flu medication. She finally gave up trying to put the bag in his hand and placed it on his desk, before walking across the room to greet John. 

“He can be so stubborn,” she whispered to John, rolling her eyes and bending her head in Alex’s direction, “but I guess you already know that.” 

John gave her a fake smile. She had worked with Alex for several years; where was her loyalty? “It’s a special part of his charm.”  

She chuckled, “Yes, I guess,” and quietly closed the door behind her. 

“I can’t believe Washington called you.  I’m fine.”  Alex plucked a tissue from the box on top of the bag and noisily blew his nose.  “It’s just a cold.  You know I get one every year.  I don’t know why everyone is acting like I have the plague.” 

“They’re not.  No one’s avoiding you.  In fact, it looks like they’re all trying to help you.  But you fainted,” Alex opened his mouth to object but closed it as he tried to stifle a cough, “and you could be a little more gracious.” 

“Gracious?  Really?  I’ll never be able to live this down.”  Another cough cut him off mid-rant.  John just waited patiently until he finished.  Alex’s eyes were watery and his nose was red.  His hair was mussed where he had probably been holding his head in his hand when no one was looking.  “And why did he have to say I almost fainted? I was just a little dizzy and held on to the back of the chair for a moment.  ‘Fainting’ sounds so…I don’t know... dramatic.  I just don’t like it.” 

“Alex, you are dramatic," he used both hands to make air quotes around the word, "and you are clearly sick.  You were warm last night; you were probably already sick when you woke up.  Let’s just go home.  The sooner you get some rest, the sooner you can get back to work.  Agreed?  Our ride is waiting.” 

 

Alex slept for most of the ride home and when they arrived, John was tempted to pick him up and carry him in, but he knew Alex would be furious.  Almost fainting in front of his colleagues **and** being carried like a child would be too much for his ego.  But he didn’t struggle while John helped him change out of his suit and into something soft, he hardly complained about the taste of the medicine, and he was already dozing by the time John returned to the bedroom with his soup. 

John put the soup on the nightstand and decided to steal a few minutes in bed with his boyfriend.  Alex burrowed into his side, immediately nestling his face into John’s neck and curling an arm around his stomach.  “Thanks for coming to get me.  You take such good care of me.  I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” John whispered into the top of Alex’s head as he pulled him closer.  They both fell asleep to the sounds of Alex’s congested snoring.

 

**TWO DAYS LATER**

 

“John, wake up.  You’re going to be late.”  John just groaned and pulled the covers up around his shoulders. 

“I don’t feel well.”


	2. But I AM a Doctor

John was perfect when it came to taking care of others.  His patients loved him; his voice was soothing and he was uncomplaining while he explained what was happening to them.  Alex loved him, too, for many reasons, but for the past few days his love grew as John took care of him, feeding him small spoonfuls of soup, wiping the sweat from his fevered brow, and tucking the blankets around his shivering body. 

But John had never been very good at taking care of himself.  He never got enough rest.  He exercised to the point of exhaustion, drank too much when he and his friends went out, and was reckless in defending what he believed (and what Alex believed).  He worked too hard and spent too much time with his patients, often extending his shifts for hours.  And even though he knew better, he stayed much too close to the man he loved while he was sick; so close it seemed they shared the same breath. _“John, please sleep in the other room.  I don’t want you to catch whatever this is,” Alex had begged._ John had just continued to whisper _I love you_ into the sweaty hair at the top of Alex’s head when it was tucked between his chin and neck, continued to card his fingers through Alex’s hair soothingly, and, even though he said he wouldn’t, continued to press soft kisses to Alex’s lips while he slept.  Those lips had always been John’s downfall. 

And now he was paying for it. 

“No, he won’t be in today,” Alex said to John’s boss on the other end of the line.  He was silent while she responded, then gave a short chuckle. “I know.  Call me Typhoid Alex.”  He wrapped up the call with a promise to make sure John rested. 

After three days, Alex was surprised to find that John wasn’t any better.  In fact, he was worse.  He shivered throughout the night, even as his temperature continued to climb, he couldn’t keep down the meager food Alex encouraged him to eat, and his cough suggested an infection. 

“John, I think we should see a doctor.” 

“I am a doctor.  It’s just the flu.  Trust me.” 

And he did.  But by the fourth day, John’s breathing was so labored, Alex had to put his ear to his lips just to hear it and John could barely make it to the bathroom on his own.  When he got there and vomited into the toilet, droplets of blood coated his lips.  Alex made the decision to call an ambulance. 

Alex eyed Dr. Rush warily when he came into the waiting room to speak to him.  He was a fine enough physician, but something about him made Alex uneasy.  “It’s pneumonia,” Dr. Rush reported.  “He’ll need to stay here a day or two for treatment and observation but he’ll be fine.  You can go see him now.  He’s sleeping but I’m sure he would appreciate your company.” 

A wave of relief swept through Alex.  He entered the room and took his first look since he was shooed from the exam room.  John looked so pale and covered with just a thin sheet and blanket, he looked almost frail.  He was hooked up to so many machines, probably way too many for his condition, but his colleagues were making sure one of their own received the best care possible.  Alex pulled up a chair and stayed by his side, holding his hand and fell asleep listening to the steady beep of the heart monitor.  He rubbed his thumb over John’s knuckles as he dozed off and said, “Open your eyes, love.  I need to know you’re okay.” 

John felt the heaviness in his chest start to subside and slowly opened his eyes.  The ceiling looked familiar but why?  He breathed in and out in an effort to clear his head.  _“Why am I looking at the hospital ceiling from this angle,” he thought._ He turned his head slowly and realized he was in a bed in one of the hospital rooms.  Alex was asleep with his head resting on the bed and touching John's side.  “Alex,” he croaked, his throat so dry and his voice so raspy that he barely made a sound.  He cleared his throat and tried again.  “Alex, honey, wake up.” 

Alex awoke with a start.  His grip tightened on John’s hand as though he was drowning and John’s hand was the life vest he needed to survive.  “John, don’t scare me like that!” 

“Come closer, please.”  

Alex rose from his chair and got onto the bed, pressing into John’s side and wrapping his arm around his waist.  John carefully lifted the hand with the heart monitor and put it over Alex’s shoulders.  “I guess I was sicker than I thought.  That will teach me to try to treat myself.  I guess I had a fool for a patient.” 

“It’s ‘a fool for a client,’ you goof.”  Alex smiled into John’s chest.  “You’re a great doctor.  You were just too sick to know how sick you really were.”  They rested together quietly as the sun set and the shadows grew longer in the room.  “I love you.”  In his drowsiness, Alex wasn’t sure if he had said the words or heard them.  He wasn’t sure if he cared.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm rearranging stuff again. Sorry about that.


End file.
